


The Emerald Ante

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Romance, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-15
Updated: 2008-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: It's true what they say, great mindsdothink alike...





	The Emerald Ante

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Part Two of the "Lapis & Emerald" series
> 
> All stories in this series can be found in the proper order under "L" in the "series" link
> 
> Beta: weetzicat

**The Emerald Ante**

“Good afternoon, sir. May I be of service?”

Harry Potter jumped, unaware that he had been noticed, much less approached, by the store clerk. “Uh, yeah, maybe,” he replied, deciding that the rather vague idea in his mind might benefit from some professional advice. “I was thinking I’d like to get some jewelry.”

“I see,” the clerk nodded. “Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. You’ll find no finer jeweler in Hogsmeade, I assure you. In fact, with the exception of Madam Tourmaline’s in Diagon Alley, you’ll find none better in all of Britain.” The quick flick of the man’s eyes told Harry that he was being sized up, as if he had come to buy robes and not a piece of jewelry. He waited for that glimmer of recognition he invariably saw in the eyes of strangers, after they realized they had seen his face before, perhaps on the cover of _The Daily Prophet_ , the _Quibbler_ , or even _Witch Weekly_. This time, however, it seemed that The Boy Who Lived might be spared recognition. “Perhaps if you tell me something about your young lady, I can help you find something appropriate.”

“No,” said Harry, a bit more quickly than he had intended.

“No?” the clerk asked, looking perplexed.

“No. I mean… no, it’s not for a _girl_ ,” Harry explained. “I mean, I want something a bo… a _bloke_ would wear, y’know?”

“Ah, yes, I understand,” the clerk smiled. “And did you have anything particular in mind?”

“Not really,” Harry shook his head. “Well, I think I’d like it to be sort of like… well, _me_ , I guess.” Having heard the words aloud, Harry knew he must have sounded like an idiot. “I’m sorry. I guess that doesn’t make much sense.”

“Actually,” the clerk smiled sympathetically, “it makes perfect sense. What’s the point of wearing something that isn’t ‘you’?” Harry breathed a sigh of relief, not only because the clerk had understood what he was trying to say, but that he also seemed to believe that Harry wanted to buy something for himself. “So were you thinking of something to wear around your neck, on your wrist or on your finger?”

This was becoming much more complicated than Harry had thought it would be. It seemed ridiculous now to have imagined that he could simply walk into this shop and immediately find the perfect gift. The whole idea had been fueled by his desire to get something special, something so unique that it would always remind Ron of him, and of their friendship. It should be easy. After all, who knew Ron better than Harry?

One thing he _was_ sure of was that Ron would definitely not appreciate another necklace, not after the one that Lavender had given him for Christmas! He would probably think that Harry was trying to take the piss out of him. “Definitely _not_ a necklace,” Harry said.

“Very good,” the clerk nodded. “You see? We’ve already narrowed the field a bit. Perhaps something for the wrist, then. We have some very nice identification bracelets, and it would be quite easy to engrave your name on any one of them.” As he spoke, he gestured Harry over to a glass display case.

Harry examined the bracelets through the glass, trying to picture Ron wearing such a thing on his wrist. Nothing that he saw, however, really seemed to convey what Harry would like to be able to say with his gift, nor did any look like Ron, or something that Ron would be likely to wear. The only way it would work would be if he gave Ron a bracelet that said “Harry,” and that would be entirely too revealing.

“Do you see anything you like?” The clerk interrupted Harry’s thoughts.

“No, not really,” Harry said apologetically. He suddenly felt like he was being a difficult customer, which was far from his intent. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have thought about this a bit more before coming in. I mean, this is all very nice, but it’s not really what I…”

“Not at all,” the clerk said ebulliently. “How else could you come to a decision unless you see what’s available? We will take all the time required to be sure that you find exactly what you like.” The clerk fixed Harry with a sincere look clearly intended to convey his eagerness to help, and Harry nodded and smiled in gratitude. Despite the fact that he was still expecting an exclamation of recognition at any moment, Harry found the man disarmingly obliging, and found himself less tense than he had been only moments before. “Now, since we seem to have eliminated necklaces and bracelets, that brings us to rings. That is, of course, unless you wanted some sort of pin?”

“Well…” Harry hesitated again. The idea of a pin had never occurred to him. Again, he tried to picture Ron wearing something pinned to the front of his school robes, maybe right beneath his Prefect’s badge. Something about the image seemed a bit posh, rather unlike Ron, with his hatred of all things pretentious. “Maybe a ring,” he said, trying to sound more sure than he was.

“Certainly,” the clerk waved towards another case. “We have a wide assortment of men’s rings, with and without stones.” Again, Harry noticed an appraising glance from the clerk, though the eyes never seemed to focus his forehead, as if searching through the fringe for his celebrated scar. When he spoke next, it was mostly to himself. “Nothing too bulky, I should think. Something understated...” At this, Harry began to wonder if it was a mistake not telling the clerk that this was a gift for someone else, so that it wasn’t so fitted to himself that Ron would be uncomfortable wearing it. He dismissed the notion straight away, however, thinking that it could lead to some rather embarrassing questions.

As he looked at the rings on display, Harry began to wonder if the entire idea wasn’t a bit questionable. Would Ron accept such a gift without so much as asking why? If he did ask, surely Harry would have to offer some explanation of why he hadn’t bought him some new Keepers’ pads, or a new chess set, or even a large box of Chocolate Frogs, something more in keeping with the sorts of gifts they had exchanged for years.

The problem with such gifts was that they were so typical. Harry wanted so much to give Ron something unique, something that would make Ron think of him every time he looked at it. The whole thing would have been made much easier if he could merely tell Ron how he felt.

For nearly two years, Harry had known that he loved Ron, and not just as a friend. The realization had broken upon him slowly. He first suspected it because of how he felt when Ron stopped speaking to him when his name flew out of the Goblet of Fire. He became more aware of it when they made up, and things returned to normal. He was absolutely convinced of it when he saw Ron, bound at the bottom of the lake, held hostage as that which Harry would sorely miss. The thought of losing him filled Harry with a terror he had never known, and that, he had to admit, he wouldn’t have felt for anyone else, not even Hermione.

Instead, here he was walking this fine line between what was meaningful and what was acceptable. After all, Ron had Lavender now, and, as much as it left a hole in the pit of Harry’s stomach, he was forced to let go of the fantasy that the ginger-haired Keeper who filled his waking thoughts was interested in blokes generally, or in him specifically. Harry knew that he was buying this gift more as a means of reminding himself that, though Ron couldn’t be exactly what Harry wanted him to be, they were still the best of friends, as close as brothers, even if Harry’s feelings weren’t quite brotherly.

Second guessing himself, Harry was quickly coming around to the idea that giving Ron such a gift created more problems than it solved. In fact, it didn’t _solve_ any problems. All it did was give Harry a warm feeling to think that some trinket would make Ron think about him even when he wasn’t around, albeit in a totally platonic way. Somehow, that didn’t seem like a good enough reason to risk being so obvious in his motivations, and to possibly spoil his single most treasured friendship.

With all these thought whirling through his brain, Harry barely saw the rings in the case. He decided the best thing to do would be to make his apologies to the clerk and beat a hasty retreat. Maybe he _would_ stop at Honeyduke’s and buy that large box of Chocolate Frogs after all. He knew that he’d get a smile out of Ron with that, and he did _love_ seeing Ron smile. Just when he was about to turn to the clerk, a ray of sunshine broke through the clouds outside and fell upon the display.

In an instant, all hesitancy and doubt were washed away as bright green light flashed from amidst the sparkling diamonds and the deep red rubies. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat as he realized that he had found exactly what he had come looking for, as if he had seen it in his mind’s eye and had it crafted precisely to his specifications.

“What _is_ that?” Harry asked without taking his eyes off the ring.

“Hmm?” the clerk replied casually, plainly oblivious to enormity of the moment. “Which one?”

“The green one, there,” Harry said, his finger pressed so hard onto the glass that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

“Ah, yes, the emerald,” the clerk said, his voice softening to an almost reverent tone. He waved his wand over the case and plunged hand his through the glass as if it was made of water. Pulling out the ring, he handed it to Harry, who continued to gaze at it in wonder. “You have a discerning eye, sir. I am quite proud of that piece, and the emerald is of a rare quality. There is no question of it fitting, either. It is from our Magic-Fit line, and will adjust itself to your finger.” When several moments passed and Harry hadn’t said anything, the clerk went on, “Of course, it could be fitted with a ruby or a sapphire, or any stone you would…”

“No!” Harry nearly shouted. “This one. This is perfect.” He had seen too many pictures of his mother not to recognize this shade of green. He had seen the same shade every morning in the mirror, as his mother’s eyes looked back at him while he made yet another vain attempt to tame his rebellious hair. Having found it, Harry was sure that the ring’s stone would always remind Ron of his eyes, of him, even more than a locket with his picture inside. Also, he thought, the green would look great with Ron’s red hair.

The clerk gasped as Harry raised the ring to examine it more closely. Harry looked up in surprise.

“Excuse me,” the clerk apologized. “It’s just that I hadn’t really noticed the color of your eyes before. I must say, it’s almost as if this stone was made just for you, the colors match so well.” Any lingering doubts that might have been hovering at the back of Harry’s mind took flight, and he knew he had found the perfect gift.

“I’ll take it,” Harry said, feeling happier than he had in quite a while.

“Certainly,” the clerk smiled, looking very pleased. “I presume it doesn’t need to be gift wrapped but, if you’ll allow me, I’ll clean it a bit and put it in a case. That is, of course, unless you wanted to wear it out.”

“No, no,” Harry shook his head. “You can put it in a case.” Realizing that he might have revealed too much, he quickly added, “I want to save it for a special occasion.” He saw the jewelers eyes narrow for the briefest instant, and wondered if the man had guessed that the ring was meant for another. Deciding he didn’t care, he handed it over and watched as the clerk cleaned it and placed it in a small black velveteen case. Harry paid, pocketed his purchase, thanked the jeweler and left.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Harry lay in his bed in the first hour of Valentine’s Day. He had tried again and again to choose an appropriate time to give Ron his gift, and had decided against handing it to him directly. Instead, he planned to leave it at the foot of Ron’s bed in the middle of the night, allowing Ron to come to his own conclusions before being forced to explain the gift, and himself. It had taken him the better part of two hours to craft the note that would accompany the ring, a few drafts being consigned to the flames of the common room fireplace, before he had managed to find the appropriate words. Now he waited until he could be sure all of his roommates were asleep.

Just when he thought he might be safe, Harry heard the clatter of bed curtain rings, and the unmistakable sound of someone getting out of bed. He presumed someone was making a trip to the loo until he heard his own bed hangings being pulled open. Harry instinctively closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, until he heard the hangings being pulled shut again, and his nocturnal visitor returning to his own bed. Because of the small number of footsteps, there was no doubt now that it had been Ron, whose bed was closest to Harry’s, and Harry wondered what it had all been about.

After another fifteen minutes of silence, Harry sat up and, making made sure his bed curtains were closed completely, took his wand from under his pillow and whispered, “ _Lumos_.” He immediately saw the gold wrapped package at the foot of his bed, sitting atop a folded piece of parchment. As quietly as he could, Harry retrieved the note and read it in the wandlight.

It was frighteningly similar to the one he had written to Ron, the one that resided next to his pillow, along with the ring in its case, wrapped in silver paper. Clearly, Ron had been careful to use just the right words, and Harry suspected that he, too, had burned a fair number of sheets before arriving at this final draft. Still, despite the camaraderie of the body of the note, all of it came down to the last two words, “ _Love, Ron_.”

Harry was so stunned by this common, yet unexpected, closing, that he nearly forgot the package. Was it possible that Ron was trying to say what Harry had tried so hard not to say in his own note, and had he betrayed his true feelings with a simple salutation? Though possibilities crowded Harry’s mind, the more rational, more cynical part of his nature warned him from getting too excited. A more objective reading of the note suggested nothing more than friendship, despite the rather affectionate closing, which could still be construed as a common, if intimate, way of signing a note.

Still weighing doubt against certainty, Harry reached for the package, its gold paper reflecting the light from his wand. Carefully, so as not to make noise, Harry pulled at the Spellotape until he had opened a flap large enough to remove the black velveteen box, which looked remarkably similar to the one he had wrapped in silver paper a week before, and which still awaited delivery. Holding his wand in his left hand, he cradled the box in his right and pushed the top open with his thumb.

Harry gasped involuntarily as reflected gold light flashed in his eyes. The ring inside the case was the same he had bought for Ron, but for the blue stone that caught the wandlight, and immediately made Harry think of Ron’s flashing blue eyes. Was it possible that Ron had known Harry had bought the emerald ring he still had given to him? Had he been betrayed by the disarmingly charming jeweler? No, that was ridiculous! There was no way that the man could have known for whom the ring had been purchased, and Harry had seen no sign of recognition on his face anyway. The number of permutations necessary to bring about such an outcome were too many to count, and Harry felt sure that the jeweler was innocent.

So, the only probability was that he and Ron were so attuned to one another that they had both chosen nearly identical rings, and that their choices of stones were based on exactly the same criteria. If that was true, and Harry couldn’t even conceive of any other truth, then he was more certain than ever that Ron’s feelings for him ran deeper than he had ever allowed himself to believe.

Harry took the blue-stoned ring from its case, no longer able to resist putting it on his finger. He paused for a moment before he remembered that the ring finger of the left hand was traditionally reserved for engagement and wedding rings. As tempting as the idea was, Harry finally slid the ring on to the ring finger of his right hand. Holding his hand out at arm’s length, he smiled as the bright white wandlight fell upon it, brilliantly illuminating the gold and blue, and reminding him of all the things that made him love Ron.

After some time, Harry finally remembered the gift he had yet to give Ron. Extinguishing his wand, he listened intently to the ambient sounds from the room. There seemed to be no movement, and he could only detect the breathing and soft snores that assured him that all his roommates were asleep. Quietly opening his bed curtains, Harry was surprised to see the barest indications of the approaching daybreak through the window. It was now or never.

As quietly as he could, Harry slipped out of his bed and walked on tip-toes to Ron’s, where he carefully laid the note and the wrapped package at the foot of his bed. Slipping back under his own covers, Harry smiled, wondering what the morning would bring. He left his bed curtains open so that he could watch the gradual brightening of the sky outside, knowing full well that there was no way he could fall asleep again, and looking at his right hand every few minutes to see how his new ring looked as more and more light seeped in through the window.

As the first rays of the rising sun shone into the dorm, Harry could hear movement from Ron’s bed. He smiled to himself, picturing Ron finding the silver wrapped package, and reading his note, which he felt a great deal more confident about now. He knew, he just _knew_ , that Ron loved him. As far as he was concerned, the rest was going to be easy. It was all he could do, however, not to chuckle, knowing that Ron hadn’t necessarily arrived at the same conclusion, and might be a bit shocked at Harry’s audacity when he did what he planned to do.

Harry listened intently, surprised that he could actually identify the sound of parchment being unfolded. Waiting a bit longer, he heard the unmistakable sound of wrapping paper being carefully removed, and soon after he was sure that he had heard a gasp of surprise. Taking that as his cue, Harry stood and quietly made his way over to Ron’s bed. Just as he reached for the bed curtain, the hangings were pulled open from within, and Ron blinked into the bright sunlight. Harry smiled, seeing the glint of gold and emerald on the middle finger of Ron’s right hand.

“Morning, Ron,” Harry said, feeling a tear of love and joy drip down his cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He’d been right. The emerald was the perfect compliment to Ron’s red hair.


End file.
